Estevan pressed his hand over his heart. “Cruelty, thou art woman.”
Lips twitching, Semras fought back a chuckle. “Yes, you’re a bastard—”
“I heard it perfectly well the first time, thank you very much.” The inquisitor drummed his fingers on his knee. “I concede the charges against me, no need to linger on the subject any further.”
“… but one more honourable than you led me to believe,” she finished. “You didn’t murder Torqedan.”
His fidgeting stopped at once. “Ah,” he said. “You found out.”
Her breath shuddered out of her. She had known it, but hearing him confirm it removed a heavy burden from her heart. She wasright.
Estevan’s face broke into a tentative grin. “I guessed as much when you exploded at me earlier. Now I know why Cael has not yet dragged me away in chains. You did not tell him my false confession, I take it?” His eyes studied her. “Did you also find out why I lied?”
“Obviously,” she said, sneering. “Spit it out, Estevan. What madness made you think you could prevent a war all on your own by taking the fall for the real murderer?”
“Nowweare back on a first-name basis?”
Semras castigated him with a pointed glare. “Stay on the subject,Inquisitor.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. Then if you figured out my plan, you also know you shouldhave followed it. You should have told Cael.” His tone had turned sombre. “Neither your people nor mine can afford another witch purge. I admit,my plan was … not my finest. In my defence, I had very little time to muse upon it. I returned from the Anderas only to discover a murder case that could lead to the doom of us all. Quite amusing, wouldn’t you say?”
“No, I wouldn’t. Not after the nightmare you made me endure,” she replied. “You will tell me everything, Estevan. From the very start.”
Head nodding, the inquisitor linked his fingers together and mused silently. Semras raised her cup to her lips for a last sip.
Before she could drink it, he snatched it from her hands. “My turn to get something to calm down,” he said, then knocked it back.
“You—!” Her face turned beet red. “Don’t—don’t dothatagain!”
With a loud groan, Semras threw her face into her hands. Old Crone curse the inquisitor! He might as well get on his knee and ask for her hand at this point. His act was so close to the final step of a sacred Wyrdtwined Oath—the binding of two souls together. All that was missing was speaking the ritualized words with the Elders in attendance.
“If you wanted more tea—”
“Thisisn’tabout tea!” A deep mortification kept her hands over her face, shielding its redness from his view.
“Suit yourself.” Estevan hummed. “Where were we …?”
When Semras felt mildly confident her blush had vanished, she raised her head and replied, “You agreed to tell me the truth. All of it.”
The slight tremors of a held-back chuckle shook the corners of his lip, and her face flushed deeper. There was no point in trying to hide the obvious anymore; Semras sat as elegantly as she could, hands resting on her legs and back held straight, desperately trying to ignore the heat emanating from her face.
Estevan gracefully didn’t mention her blushing. “I visited Master Torqedan the afternoon I came back from the Anderas to pay my respects and warn him my report on that case would be late. I left him fully healthy, and then, mere hours later in the evening, his maid found him dead.” He furrowed his brow. “I immediately thought of his witch remedy … and of the consequences the tribunal’s death would bring if it was responsible for it.”
“A new witch purge,” she breathed.
His expression turned contrite. “Indeed. Most people think your kind are extinct, but that murder would bring you back to the forefront of actuality—along with all the sordid stories of the past. If the Inquisition did not declare a witch purge to avenge Eloy Torqedan, then the masses would have clamoured for it. As a preemptive strike, of course. And these tend to escalate quickly.”
A shiver ran down her spine—her neck still remembered the noose around it. “An old, defenceless man, killed in the safety of his own house by the witch he had entrusted his health to?” she said. “I can see how that would be perceived. And how it would end. In blood.”
“In blood,” he repeated, nodding. “And enough to bathe the entire peninsula in it for years to come. War would have gone on until only witches or inquisitors would remain.”
“Most probably neither …” she said. “Then you came to me so I could confirm the remedy killed him?”
Exhaling deeply, Estevan buried his face in his hands. “At first, yes. Every night I prayed that you would prove me wrong, that the second part of my plan would not be needed. But in case my prayers went unanswered—as they were—I still acted like an arrogant bastard you would show no pity for.” He lifted his head, eyes filled with longing. “But the second I walked into your home, the second I saw you … I—”
“I know,” Semras interrupted, wincing. “You wanted me to lie so your fears wouldn’t come true. I should have lied. Would have spared me so much pain.” She glanced down at her bound hands.
“No, I mean—” He followed her gaze to the shackles, then blanched. “I … Never mind. It is not as important as …” He gestured down at the binds. “… as this. Semras, I-I have no words to convey the depth of how sorry I am for doing this to you. Circumstances forced my hand. It is no excuse, I know, but I still wanted to say—”
